Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“You’re more than your looks,” Oliver reiterated.
“Am I?” he asked back.
Oliver cupped Matt’s cheek, rubbed his thumb across it. “I love you…you and not because of how you look or what you do for a living. I love you and I know you know it. You’ve always known it, haven’t you?”
Matt sucked in a sharp breath, then closed his eyes and leaned into Oliver’s hand. It was as if he could only give himself that one second—and then he was opening his eyes and slightly pulling his face away from Oliver’s hand until he dropped it.
“You want to take care of me, Ollie. Want to fix me, to help me. There’s a difference.”
Oliver’s insides damn near turned to stone. “Fuck you, Matt.” He tried to move but this time it was Matt stopping him. Matt’s hand on his chest, as he didn’t budge from Oliver’s lap.
“You deserve better than me,” Matt added.
“Fuck you if you think that, too. Those are excuses and you know it. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. I’ve always known you don’t, but don’t patronize me. Don’t tell me how I should feel or how I do feel or make excuses. You don’t love me and that’s it. Say it.”
Matt didn’t speak, didn’t move. Both men breathed heavily, their chests rapidly moving in and out, their breaths mixing. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Matt said, “I’m afraid to feel the same way.”
Oliver’s pulse rapped against his skin. He swallowed around the tension in his throat. “I would never hurt you.”
The sad look in Matt’s eyes told him that wasn’t what he was afraid of. He was afraid he would hurt Oliver. “You give me shit for trying to take care of you, for trying to protect you, but you do the same fucking thing to me.”
They were at an impasse. Oliver knew that. Neither of them would budge…but he felt better knowing that he’d spoken his truth. That he’d told Matt how he felt. Maybe then when Matt left, he would finally be able to move on.
“I should go back to my room,” Matt said but didn’t move.
“Don’t be stupid. We’re grown-ass men. We fucked, not for the first time, remember? We both know that’s all this is. Lie down and go to sleep, Matty. We had a good night. I don’t want to ruin it now.”
Matt nodded and climbed off him. He lay on his side, his back toward Oliver. He watched Matt for a moment, then turned out the light and curled up behind him, with his arm around Matt’s waist. He let his finger dance up and down Matty’s ribcage.
“Do you have an eating disorder, Matt?” He held his breath as he waited for an answer.
“You’ve seen me eat.”
“Not what I asked.”
He sighed. “I’m fine. Again, I’ve always been thin. I have a shoot coming up and a lot of shit on my mind, which makes me lose my appetite. I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine.” He paused, “Are you still going to go?”
“Of course. You know I won’t let you down.” Oliver squeezed him tighter and hoped like hell they were going to be okay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Oliver knew he needed to go see Miles. He would be pissed about last night, there were no two ways about it. He would take Oliver going with Matt on Friday night as Oliver being too wrapped up in Matt, and maybe he was right. The thing was, he didn’t feel you could be too much of anything when it came to Matt, which was another red flag that Miles would call him on if he voiced it.
He’d left his house around the same time as Matt today, the other man having some kind of work thing he had to do for his upcoming shoot.
He was let into Miles’s building and took the elevator up to his apartment. The second he made it to the door, it was pulled open by his friend. Miles didn’t have a shirt on, his brown skin slightly sweaty as though he’d been working out. “Manage to squeeze me into your schedule, did you?”
Oh yeah. He was pissed. Oliver wasn’t the least bit surprised. “It was one fucking night. Don’t act like that. You’re being childish.” Oliver stepped inside. He’d always thought Miles’s apartment was slightly cold. It was mostly done in grays and blues—a lot of stainless steel and even steel artwork—very modern.
It was open concept with a bar on the edge of the kitchen, the living room on the other side. Oliver headed for that room and sat on the black couch.
“You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?” was the first thing Miles asked.
Fuck. He should have known the other man would see it. When Oliver didn’t answer Miles groaned out, “Jesus.”
“What is your issue with him? Christ, Miles. You act like he’s not one of us. Like we haven’t been friends with him for years. You’re the one always telling me to get laid, so I did. Why do you give a shit who I fuck?”